


Death & Rebirth

by Sylencia



Category: Naruto
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Mention of Death, hashimadaminibang, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 01:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3338597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylencia/pseuds/Sylencia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is something I wrote for the HashiMadaMinibang on Tumblr. I have not re-read it but will do it soon and try to correct myself.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Death & Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote for the HashiMadaMinibang on Tumblr. I have not re-read it but will do it soon and try to correct myself.

It felt like dying. Madara felt his heart stop and never beat anymore in the battlefield and now that he was sitting next to his brother’s death bed, there was nothing left to feel. He was dead, he felt like he was but he knew what was coming.

Everyday, he would see his brother. He could be walking in the Uchiha compound, alone and there was a shadow, in the corner in his eyes, that looked exactly like Izuna. Oh, he knew death, he knew its effects on the mind and the sanity but this was different. He had protected his brother during a long time now, from his birth to his last day and losing him was beyond everything he ever imagined.

Yes, of course, he already lost brothers, not so long ago, he saw one of them die and assisted to their burial but it wasn’t the same. When he watched Izuna getting injured by that damned Senju, the time seemed to stop, for Madara. His sharingans could barely see Tobirama move, but as soon as his sword touched Izuna, he knew it was over. His brother was a strong shinobi, yes, but nobody was strong enough to survive such a strike.

And Madara saw his brother fall. His fight with Hashirama wasn’t important anymore, he had to help him, to support him and Madara would never forget the look in his brother’s eyes. Even Izuna knew he wouldn’t make it and yet, he refused Hashirama’s help, whispering to his brother’s ear, telling him not to trust them. Izuna didn’t care, if he lost the battle .. He didn’t want his brother to lost his way.

Life, after Izuna’s death seemed bitter. When he woke up, the day after the burial, Madara looked around, to see if his brother was looking at him, his arms crossed but a smile in the eyes, as if he was making fun of him. Every morning was the same, Madara always was an early bird but Izuna ? Sometimes, Madara was wondering if he actually slept, some nights and when he asked his brother, Izuna always answered the same.

“Who will look after you while you sleep, if I go to bed ?”

Madara didn’t need someone to look after him but he never said so to Izuna. He had taken care of him all his childhood and he knew the feeling. The constant worry, the anger when he was coming home late, the gentle feelings when his brother was smiling. Madara knew he only was a big brother but it meant so much to him. Not because Izuna was his brother. But because Izuna was his only brother left alive.

Then, the day would go on and Izuna, as his right arm man was following him around, waiting for his orders, with that smug look in the eyes. Or, more precisely, Madara could see how smug he could be with the rest of the clan. Izuna was being so proud of his brother, always making sure people would remember his rank but Madara knew better. Deep inside, Izuna was still a child, behind this shell and he was always looking up at him with amazement. But Izuna wasn’t stupid, nor naive and people shouldn’t underestimate him.

Behind his angelic face, a mindless demon was hiding and they’d better not tease him too much.

When he was turning around to order something, Madara would face the void and the pain would come back. It was hard, really, to bear his brother’s loss, when everything seemed so dull without him. Izuna always had this aura, around him, soothing, cheering him up and what would he do, now he was alone ? Replace his brother ? That couldn’t happen.

The worst moments were when he was eating. He had someone to take care of his food, someone he could trust but .. as he was eating alone, food tasted like sand and ash. Sometimes, he didn’t even feel like eating. Yes, he needed too, his body needed the nutriments, the energy but it was so disgusting. Madara never was one to complain about food, eating whatever could keep him aline in extreme situations but this was different. This was the pain, the mourning taking over his senses and they were all confused.

Like his eyes discerning Izuna’s outline, just like a ghost, his taste making him want to vomit, he could sometimes hear his brother’s voice. It could be a simple whisper in the wind, or something he could really consider like Izuna’s voice, when he was dreaming, when his mind kept replaying his death, over and over until he wasn’t able to sleep anymore. And when he was passing by his brother’s old bedroom, he could catch a faint smell reminding him his brother’s presence and every time he took off his gloves, Madara wanted to grab his brother, and hug him, and tell him not to go away.

As the great shinobi he was, Madara knew it was a shame. He never cried his other brother’s death but Izuna .. Everything always was different with Izuna and now, the only thing he had left were his eyes. And they were burning, seeking for revenge and he knew that each time he’d go back on the battlefield, and meet Tobirama, he’d go after him, until he could avenge Izuna’s death and show him.

Madara wanted his brother’s eyes to see the Senju’s death, to see him beg for his life, and look up at him, and bleed, and scream, and die. And every night, when Madara couldn’t sleep, his mind was playing, again and again, the day he would be able to kill the man who took his brother’s life and use his brother’s eyes to end his pathetic existence.

But, Madara Uchiha died, when he lost his last brother and there was no going back.

Or, that’s what he thought, before Konoha happened, and with it, the alliance with the Senjus. At first, Madara thought he had made the worst mistake in his life, accepting Hashirama’s hand and help but with time, he knew he couldn’t have done better. Just like when they were children, when they were dreaming, they built the village and Peace finally came and Madara, even if his brother’s voice kept telling him how wrong he was, was feeling more and more confident about all this.

And even if some villagers didn’t seem to accept him, anyways, he wasn’t counting on it, there was one thing he knew was positive.

Hashirama.

With time, and war, he had forgotten how happy he used to be with his friend, by the river. When they were training, tiring themselves because they wanted to become stronger, because they wanted to protect their brother and Madara, step by step, was discovering his old friend again.

But, just like he did, Hashirama had grown up. He used to be a strong child but he was a good man now, always smiling to people, always cheering up and respecting others and listening to every complaint without getting bored when Madara barely had the patience to assist to meetings without thinking of all the ways he could find to leave. And the only thing Madara hated, about Hashirama, was of course his damned brother but he was easier to ignore, with Hashirama by his side. Madara didn’t care how long it could take, revenge would come, sooner or later. He was patient enough.

It had been a month, now, since Hashirama asked him to come for diner. He told him, many times, that they’d be all alone, that nobody would come and bother them, and, nobody meant Tobirama but Madara always refused the invitation. And the more Hashirama insisted, the less Madara wanted to go. He didn’t know why, but there was something, in his friend’s smile, that was triggering something in him. He wasn’t scared but .. he wasn’t confident either and Madara Uchiha hated when he felt like this.

But, as stubborn as he was, Hashirama never gave up and finally, Madara accepted, out of pity for his friend and hoping he’d let him alone after that diner.

Madara couldn’t lie about this. Hashirama wasn’t a good cook and he made the promise to never eat with him again. It was even worse than what he was used to, since Izuna’s death, when he lost his taste and, even if he didn’t care about hurting his friend, or that’s what he was telling himself, he tried not to. He knew Hashirama, and how dramatic he could become over simple things and wasn’t in the mood to bear with it, this precise night. All he wanted was to go back home, take a bath to relax a bit and try to sleep. He had exhausted himself, today, during his training, hoping it’d help him to sleep. Maybe it would work, this time.

But Hashirama didn’t look like he wanted to let him go so soon, as he came back from the kitchen with a sake bottle and two glasses and the Senju settled beside him, smiling like the idiot he was.

“We never took the time to celebrate !” he exclaimed, pouring the alcohol. “To our village !” he then cheered, holding up his glass.

Madara imitated him, looking at the other without blinking and drank quickly before he began to stand up.

“W-what are you doing now ?” Hashirama said, frowning. “I’m not done with you ! I waited long enough, stay with me ..”

Sighing, because he knew it would last hours, when he only wanted to go home, Madara settled back and stretched his legs, leaning on the table, the chin in his hand. “Are we going to drink all the night long ?” the Uchiha asked, bored.

“Maybe so ..” Hashirama nodded happily and they did.

Hashirama was holding on strangely easy and Madara, drunk like never before, was wondering if Hashirama was drinking water and not alcohol but, as the Senju was talking, he could smell the sake in his breath and his movements weren’t as quick as before. And he had to concentrate, when he was pouring the sake. Even when he stood up, to go and pick another bottle in the kitchen, it felt like he was on a boat, his steps careful and his balance being quite random. But Madara knew he was even worse.

To be short, he knew he couldn’t stand anymore but he didn’t really mind. He didn’t even wanted to push the bottle far from him and his whole body seemed alive. It didn’t happen for a long time now, since Izuna’s death but his senses seemed so right, now. He had taken off his gloves, and his skin seemed to tickle, he could only hear Hashirama’s drunken voice, he could easily smell the sake and the taste .. Ah, yes, sake burned his tongue but it tasted so good. It tasted better than anything else he ate since that cursed day.

“Ah, Madara ..” Hashirama called, after he gulped another glass of sake. “There’s something I wanted to tell you .. For a really, really, really ..”

“Cut it down”, the Uchiha groaned, massaging his temples, wondering if it could help a little.

“.. Really long time !” Hashirama finished, ignoring the other. Madara sighed and Hashirama harshly placed an arm around his shoulders. “I love you, Madara Uchiha !”

Even if he was drunk, Madara understood his words. They acted on him like a bucket of cold water and even if his vision was still blur, he glared at the other. “You drunk idiot, keep your non-sense for yourself !” he spat, hitting his shoulder.

“But I do ! And I .. I’ll prove it !”

And, on those words, Hashirama kissed him.

There was some kind of a fight, as Madara tried to push away the other, but Hashirama, as drunk as he was, was still stronger than him and held him without effort against his chest, his lips and tongue moving eagerly, tasting him. He even laughed when Madara bit him but he didn’t stop and Madara shook his head, tasting Hashirama’s sweet blood in his mouth.

“Madara” Hashirama called again. “Let me love you !”

As an answer, Madara only closed his eyes. He didn’t want Izuna’s eyes to see those things, to read on Hashirama’s lips. He didn’t want his brother’s eyes see his decadence when, drunk and craving for it, he kissed Hashirama back, his nails digging in the Senju flesh as he craved for this touch, his hearing loving Hashirama’s voice, the smell and the taste of the sake intoxicating him. He didn’t care about his other senses but he’d never show his brother’s eyes those terrible things.

Because, as drunk as he was, and feeling so bad about what was happening, Madara knew he couldn’t push Hashirama back.

Not when he was feeling so alive, just like he was brought back to life by his best friend, and soon to be lover ..


End file.
